The Pursuit of Perfection.

As a mother, there is an underlying pressure of “perfection.” This pursuit of perfection doesn’t necessarily apply to ourselves, rather in the way that our children are perceived and received. I have found this pressure has grown as my children have aged and become walking, talking, independent little individuals. Back several years ago, my biggest worry was whether or not our son, a known biting villain, would attack anyone outside his immediate family. This grew into fears of whether or not he would be successfully potty trained, without having to drain and sterilize the local country club pool (thankfully, this was one reality that I did not have to face.)

Now, as he faces entering into first grade, the worries are constantly changing and growing: will he be accepted, will he be successful academically, and will he find happiness with friends. All of these new worries however, are largely out of my control. Of course, I, as we all do, have a hand in the academic success of our children, so much so in fact, many of us put expectations on them, that we have never even put on ourselves. The social pressures that our children encounter become greater and more involved by the year. While once we were merely worried about them inflicting physical harm on another child, we are now worried about them being accepted, liked, and most importantly kind to those around them. This responsibility is so daunting for me, that I am constantly placing unrealistic expectations on myself as his mother. Of course, my son has no idea how much time I spend worrying, planning, and preparing him and myself for this gradual, but very important, path into real life. Whether attending a parent-teacher conference, or watching him play in a sporting event, that real-life pressure is there. I want perfection, for him.

I have figured, out over time, that this unrealistic pursuit of perfection is simply a way of trying to control the uncertainty of a completely uncontrollable eventuality. The reality of all this is overwhelming. But, once faced with the fact that this is a battle I will never win, and when I began to have a little faith in the work that I have done, it became quite freeing. Of course, there’s still the part of me that wants to jump in and kick that soccer ball, or do that work, or read that word he doesn’t quite know, but I don’t. I know that he, at only 6, has a long life ahead of him, of triumphs, and disappointments. The sooner that I let go of trying to control this need to protect him, and drop my pursuit of perfection, the better off we will both be.